Make You Feel Better
by civillove
Summary: Ficlet There are not a lot of things that scare Blaine; his girlfriend injured or sick, however, is definitely one of them. AKA Blaine makes Rachel feel better. NY Future AU; Sebastian cameos, Seblainchel if you squint


Title: Make You Feel Better  
Pairing: blainchel, Sebastian cameos (seblainchel if you squint)  
Summery: There are not a lot of things that scare Blaine; his girlfriend injured or sick, however, is definitely one of them. AKA Blaine makes Rachel feel better.  
Type: I realized I can't do drabbles because I describe backstory in extensive detail -_- so fic-let  
Rating: light R  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything yadaaaa. Otherwise Blaine would probably have a full head of curls and be straighter than he is. And Sebastian would be in season 4.  
Author's note: For Rachel, because when she feels like crap I do too. Lol this is nothing compared to how she can write but~ so as in, if you want to read good blainchel fic I suggest you check out berrywarbler's archive. Why do people keep telling me to write? Kay great.

000

There are not a lot of things that scare Blaine Anderson, not anything that he can't easily get over with a few deep breaths and some rational thinking (because who _isn't_ dramatic when something nerve wracking happens?).

He's scared of cancer, because it's a silent killer, it multiplies in an unknowing host (not detectable and deadly) until obvious symptoms arise and by then it's nearly too late to do anything about it. He has had an Aunt die from brain cancer and his mother had a brush with breast cancer—it runs in his family along his bloodline, veins in a family tree, reaching out onto branches and seeping into leaves. It scares the shit out of him—that he may wake up one day and realize that his life line has been cut in half by some unsuspecting tumors beneath his curly hair and skull. He's scared of divorce because taking the time and effort and love and sacrifice to build up a relationship and then to have it tumble all down, to start from scratch seems emotionally and physically exhausting. His parents went through a divorce when he was eleven and they never remarried. His dad spent years seeing a bottle named Jack and his mother threw herself into her work and started dating her case files instead. He knew being a police officer was hard, it probably took up more of her life than he realized; he'd never be able to put in the type of work or effort that she did—but she never gave her personal life a second chance. She set it on the shelf along with her wedding ring and a picture of her at her wedding to gather dust, memories hanging in the form of cobwebs. No, if he ever found someone special enough to take to the alter; he'd seal himself to them for life. The depthless abyss of not knowing, of diving back into the world, single and trying to swim in a sea of dead end possibilities after being with someone for so long scared him to the point of giving up. He's scared of failure (even though he'd never admit it, it's probably written so plainly on his face that people can see the letters); it's so mind-numbingly-crippling that he throws himself into everything he does a hundred and ten percent. To the point where he could hurt himself or make himself sick. No, failure is not an option for him. He has to be good at what he loves (because even though he is very confident in who he is, he can't stand to see disappointment on people's faces). His father had drilled that incentive into his head since birth (even though his father couldn't even keep a marriage together, couldn't keep his son a hundred percent straight, couldn't keep himself from falling into a bottle of vodka), but Blaine is determined not to fail. It's programmed into his DNA. He won't let himself fail because he's too afraid to.

If someone would have told him two years ago, that after his senior year he'd be moving to New York (alright, he could believe that one) to live with a determined (yet increasingly annoying on her worse days) up and coming Broadway star and an asshole that had tried to blind him with rock salt, (_That slushie was meant for Kurt_, yeah he'd heard that eight million and a half times) he would have probably (no definitely) laughed in their face before calling Kurt to see if they were still on for their midnight facial cleansings.

He would have laughed. But that person would have been right.

After his junior year had come to a close, the senior class that he had so intricately woven his life around were moving out and away from Lima (as far as they could, because who could really bloom in this cow hick of a town) to live and pursue the dreams they had been building since Freshman year. He wasn't sure where everyone had gone, he knew Quinn was going to Yale and Finn was trying the Army, that Kurt and Rachel were headed to New York and…that he was still stuck. In one pin mark on a bulletin board map. Lima for a whole year. He was silly and naïve and plain stupid for thinking that everyone would remain the same while so many changes were happening.

Kurt broke up with him on a Wednesday. He remembered it as clear and as bright as if it had happened yesterday. He ended it with a phone call—of all things, he couldn't even wait until they saw each other on a break to do it person. He thought he deserved more decency than that but the bright lights of New York were hypnotizing Kurt like a trance and the distance weighed heavily on both of their shoulders to the point where Blaine felt like he was carrying cinder blocks sometimes. Their red stringed tether snapped in half, the connection broken, the memories and feelings of love and affection tangled and confused on both ends. Blaine tried to give Kurt the benefit of the doubt, even though he didn't deserve it. Tried to blame it on the distance, the late night calls, the hectic schedules—and not a tight and perfect ass that Kurt probably had his eyes on since day one of his theater or vocal classes. Blaine _refused_ to believe he was getting dumped for someone else—even though that ended up being the case.

The only person he had been able to talk to was Rachel—the only person that had cared enough to call him minutes after Kurt had done the deed. She apparently was furious at Kurt, for breaking up with him over the phone, for not giving Blaine enough of a chance to see if they could make long distance work, for a million other things (she talked _so_ fast when she was upset) that blurred into his ear as he could only sob in response. But she had been there, every day after, every day where he thought the pain was too much to get out of bed and shower, to go downstairs and mange to make himself soup, when all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and call Kurt to beg him to take him back. Rachel was a lot stronger than people gave her credit for. He admired her for a lot of things—her unwavering passion, her determination, her clear and concise notion that she deserved things better and bigger than Lima—but especially for her strength to get back up when people tried to knock her off her pedestal. She had been made fun of by popular people in her high school just like Kurt had (for different reasons of course) but she had managed to crawl up from under that, refusing to let people weigh her down when they didn't know her or what she was capable of. She didn't let Finn squash her dreams of New York when he didn't make it into the acting school he had applied to, or even when he had broken up with her to join the army. And she could have easily slid into a state of depression (like he was over Kurt) because Finn was her first love; and he understoodthatfeeling. First loves, real and true and sincere first loves, never really disappeared or went away, the imprints of the person and how much they really meant forever etched into the body where no one could see. Finn had broken her heart like Kurt had broken his. And even though no one used 'strong' to describe Rachel (insecure, annoying, cut-throat maybe, _selfish Rachel_), that's one of the many things Blaine saw her as. And while she could be selfish, annoying, and insecure…any one who was human could be those things too. No one gave her the credit she deserved for the _good_ in her heart—but Blaine could see it and, for him, it easily outshined all the bad opinions of her character.

He ran into Sebastian on a Friday, weeks after his breakup with Kurt and when Rachel had finally managed to convince him crawl out of the cave that had become his room. He should have known Sebastian would be at the Lima Bean, if Kurt was right about anything, it was that the taller male practically lived there. But then he thought about why—

Was Sebastian's home empty? Was his father off fucking his secretary while his mom (dousing her sorrows in pill bottles and whiskey) barely knew where _she_ was let alone that Sebastian was home? Did the noise and clatter of the Lima Bean make it easier for him to do his homework instead of the numbing silence of his large mansion estate? Did it make him feel less lonely? Because no matter how angry he had been at him for what he had done, for what he had been trying to do to his boyfriend—Blaine saw the loneliness there, hidden beneath pine green colored eyes. He sensed it, understood it even… and maybe, that was why after running into Sebastian for the sixth time at the Lima Bean (after that first fateful Friday when he told him ever so politely to '_run a comb through your hair or your curly mop is going to start homing woodland creatures'_) that they started to develop a routine. Coffee before and after school, homework at Blaine's house and Sebastian's mansion, lacrosse games and vocal competitions—

And maybe that was why, on a Saturday, Blaine had finally forgiven him. And started being his friend. Rachel had screeched (quite literally) on the phone to him that he was being ridiculous and careless and that Sebastian wanted nothing more than to fuck him over (metaphorically and ever so literally against whatever clean viable surface he could get to). He probably shouldn't have told her, but they told each other everything anymore. She was quickly becoming his best friend, of course he told her. And that had been their first major fight—Blaine defending his friendship with Sebastian and Rachel telling him he was stupid. She called an hour later, sniffly and adorable—she was jealous and she missed him. Blaine spent the next day figuring out of he could send her flowers…and how he'd do so when she was in New York and he was in Lima.

He started dating Rachel on a Thursday. It was October—he remembered because it was close enough to Halloween to start planning a costume party and he was out buying pumpkins on his Fall break. He saw baskets of stupid gourds people bought decorated with paint (because other than turning them into witch faces or ghosts, what were gourds really good for?). Well, they were stupid until, of course, he saw one decorated with a bunch of bright, gold, sparkly painted stars. He was done missing Rachel. He was done waiting for Christmas break for her to come home (because she had to stay in New York for fall break; she landed a role in one of NYADA's holiday performances and she needed to practice non-stop); her parents were visiting her for Thanksgiving but he couldn't wait to try and convince the Berry's that he wanted to come too. He needed to see her right there and then…and that's when he should have realized that something had shifted in him—that that stupid percent he had uttered in the Lima Bean that one day hadn't reflected who he was but merely how he felt about Kurt.

Sebastian had called him a love-sick idiot but that hadn't stopped him from helping him buy a two way ticket to New York. Sebastian didn't do love or affection or feelings—he was as prickly as a cactus. He told Blaine he could thank him in the form of a blow job—so Blaine laughed and hugged him tight, burning to memory the way the other male rolled his eyes and fought off a smile tugging the ends of his mouth.

Rachel had opened her dorm room door (she had yet to score a decent apartment) and literally screamed in surprise as she saw him, throwing herself into his arms the very next moment. Her scent had enveloped him completely—warm vanilla sugar and her breath on his face, smelling like apple cider. Like the season of Fall had molded and seeped into her pores. He had handed her the gourd (from Lima) with all the stars on it and when she had went to kiss his cheek, he had pointedly turned his head so that their lips met.

He had stayed for a week with her in her dorm room; Sebastian had sent a text asking him if she was as self-righteous in bed as she was when she had called him to scream about not hurting Blaine again or it'd be the last thing he ever did.

Rachel made long distance work, it was almost painfully simple the way that they kept in touch with phone calls, texts, emails and skype—he realized that two people could make anything work if they cared enough for each other. And maybe, that had been what was missing between him and Kurt. The caring and love buried and lost under miles of concrete, houses, stop signs and people.

Blaine thought the fear of failure would run alongside with things not going according to plan. Because surely, things that didn't work out like they were supposed to would end up that way because he hadn't done his best, right? He hadn't gotten into NYADA—he spent his time worrying and beating himself up (and slamming his fists into a punching bag) because that's what he had been working towards, that's where he had wanted to go since…well, alright not since birth like Rachel but for long enough. And just because it hadn't been a lifelong dream didn't mean it was any less disappointing when he hadn't gotten in. Sebastian had dealt with the bulk of his complaining about his lack of self-worth and had let him sleepover the countless times he hadn't been able to deal with his parents coming at him from both sides telling him they were disappointed, that he could have worked harder, been better. That he _failed_.

It was on a Sunday that Sebastian told him to try out for Juilliard, even though it was incredibly unlikely that Blaine would ever get in. If he hadn't gotten into NYADA, what was even the point of applying late for Julliard? Sebastian told him to shut up and trust him—and Blaine was scared to think of what that even meant.

He was afraid to ask or know how he had gotten accepted into Julliard but knew it had to do with the tall, lanky, (rich) male that he met for coffee every day at the Lima Bean. His aunt apparently worked at the school—and his father had a deep throat (Sebastian was vulgar and over sharing) but his pockets were deeper. Blaine tried not to let it bother him that Sebastian had pulled strings to get him into a decent and expensive school…and he tried not to tell himself that Sebastian owed him for nearly blinding him and to shut up because he'd be able to go to school in New York where Rachel was.

It was actually Sebastian who had gotten the three of them a decent apartment. He insisted that if he had to hear Rachel complain about her roommate one more time he was going to castrate himself—it was basically like they were living together by the end of Sebastian and Blaine's freshman, Rachel's sophomore, year anyways. And even though Sebastian and Rachel butted heads more often than not, Blaine was _happy_—and that in the end was all Sebastian cared (and that's using the word _lightly_) about.

Blaine and Sebastian had gotten an apartment together when they first moved to New York, because Sebastian was taking classes at Columbia (he told Blaine to shove that coincidence down his throat, no he wasn't going to New York because his only friend was headed there too—though it all made Blaine smile from time to time because it was a _hell_ of a coincidence) and he had enough money in his bank account from acquiring his trust fund to afford a decent place. Blaine offered money when he could for the rent but Sebastian rolled his eyes and told him to go make dinner or something and stop handing him money like he needed it. Rachel had visited almost every night, saying that she couldn't stand her messy roommate, and had a second home in Blaine's bedroom. But the apartment was big enough for four people and they had been using the extra rooms for storing boxes (and Blaine insisted Sebastian needed a whole room for his ego). So after that last semester of Rachel's sophomore year, she moved in—Sebastian rolling his eyes the whole time while Blaine and she exchanged excited kisses and giggles, tripping over boxes and Rachel's stuffed animals.

Ironically enough, while the three of them could fight about almost anything, they seemingly got along as Summer rolled through New York, Fall and winter crashing on all of them without a moment's notice. Sebastian was barely home between his classes and many nights at gay bars and stumbling into someone else's bed, leaving Rachel and Blaine in a giant apartment by themselves when they had time.

Not that either of them minded that very much at all.

Blaine was actually very surprised that both of them had managed to keep the relationship between them working—with crazy schedules and not seeing each other much past kisses before class, sharing half n hour lunches, fooling around in the shower before bed and so many stupid fights that stretched between Rachel being jealous of his pretty dance partner in theater, Blaine being upset over how messy Rachel could be, and both of them angry at each other for not taking the time to remember dates so that they could spend more time together. Three years (give or take) and they were still together, feelings as strong as the first day he had kissed her (without being drunk or the rough and quick glide of lips with eyes on them in the Lima Bean) star painted gourd in his hand and her dorm room smelling like pumpkin spice. As much as he had loved Kurt, still loved him in a way, and how he had been mad for so long for the way he had broken up with him—he realized that everything that had happened with that relationship had led him to being with Rachel. So really, how could he regret that?

And while cancer, divorce and failure were probably explainable, he's sure that other people shared some of those same fears, Blaine decided that nothing scared him _more_ than Rachel Berry…and when she's not her chipper, passionate, very-easy-going-self.

"I told you I was _fine_!" Rachel insisted, her voice loud and utterly demanding in his ear as he carried her through the front door of their apartment. He rolled his eyes and took her straight to the couch, his body sweating with effort underneath his black pea coat (she may have been light but the apartment complex had turned up the heat since it was snowing outside).

"Rachel, just let me set you down and then you can scream okay?" He asked her, glancing at Sebastian as he sat up on the couch and watched Blaine settle her next to him—that was all it took for Sebastian to get up. "The doctor said you have to keep weight off your ankle, I wanted to put you in a wheelchair—"

"And roll me around like an _invalid_?" She scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "I think not."

"You can't put any weight on it for at least the rest of the night," Blaine recalled the doctor's orders. "And then small increments, do you want to mess it up more?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "What does _he_ know anyways?"

Blaine felt a smile slowly tug at the ends of his mouth. So like her to be stubborn about this, over things she couldn't control. "I'm pretty sure he knows what he's talking about…seeing as how he's a doctor and all and has probably dealt with a lot of sprained ankles."

"Too bad your voice box wasn't damaged in your unsuspecting fall." Sebastian muttered and Blaine ran a hand over his face because—great, this was just what he needed.

"You _told_ him?" Rachel screeched, pointing to the taller male who was heading to the kitchen.

Blaine sighed and took his coat, scarf and hat off, throwing them over the back of a chair and running his hand through his wild curls, adjusting his button down plaid shirt and went over to start taking Rachel's coat off. Even though she slapped his hands away and insisted she could do it.

"I had to tell him, I didn't know how long we were going to be at the hospital." He said slowly.

"I told you not to wear those death trap shoes Christmas shopping." Sebastian came back into the living room with a bowl of cereal and plopped down on the other couch, cattycornered from where she was and put his feet up on the coffee table.

While Blaine didn't really pay attention to what shoes Rachel was wearing (he usually could only get to her knees when she wore short skirts before he had to kiss her) he had noticed that the high heeled red boots she had wanted to wear were a bit ridiculous for Christmas shopping. But they were new and Rachel had wanted to break them in so he just…let her do what she wanted, avoiding an argument Sebastian and Rachel were obviously going to have now.

"Did someone get distracted by the obnoxious color and accidently run into you with a cart?" He asked, a smile slowly stretching across his lips.

"Sebastian…" Blaine tried, giving him a glare. But it was too late.

"I slipped on some ice in the parking lot and I fell and oh please, you're one to talk!" Rachel yelled over him. "I'm not the one who wears baby vomit colored polos out to clubs and insists he's the best looking one there."

Sebastian smiled at her. "I don't have to insist, I _am_." Rachel rolled her eyes and Blaine shook his head. "I could be wearing actual vomit and would probably still get the same amount of blowjobs—just because Blaine hasn't been around to flick your bean, don't take your sexual frustration out on the only person who's been getting any."

"_Sebastian_." Blaine squeaked, his cheeks blotching a dark pink. He could feel the tips of his ears turning red as well as the back of his neck.

Now Sebastian's attention was on him and he smirked as his eyes traveled over Blaine's face, his lower lip brought into his mouth as he zeroed in on the blush. "Super hot." He drawled out, making Rachel throw a pillow at his head.

"Stop objectifying my boyfriend."

"Tell Blaine to stop being so objectifyable."

"Alright," Blaine interrupted, stopping Rachel from throwing another pillow at him while huffing that 'objectifyable' wasn't a word.

He sighed softly and took her coat into his arms, picking up his as well so he could hang them up in the closet near the front door. It was amazing to him that they were all past their teens and he still had to babysit the two of them like they were toddlers sometimes.

"Sebastian, go out and get us dinner, would you?" He reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

The other male scrunched his nose, looking up at him with a haughty expression. "It's not my turn."

"Well, it's not like you do anything around here anyways." Rachel hissed.

Sebastian snapped. "I pay _the rent_."

"Stop it." Blaine pleaded, touching Sebastian's arm to get his attention and his death glare off of Rachel. The male relaxed under his touch and looked up at him. "Please? I know it's my turn but I leave you two here alone I'm afraid Rachel might kill you, bad ankle or not."

He was surprised Sebastian wasn't looking for a way out anyways—Rachel was extremely demanding as it was and her personality was heightened ten-fold when she was sick, hurt or upset. The last time she was sick and bedridden Blaine had resorted to flipping a coin with Sebastian to who would go into her bedroom to bring her soup… Sebastian had insisted it was ridiculous, Blaine was her goddamn boyfriend but both of them were too afraid to do anything else. Because even though Sebastian and Rachel didn't get along most of the time, they all lived under the same roof—and they all cared about each other in one small way or another. Which meant Sebastian would bring Rachel soup if he had to and would go out and get them all dinner if Blaine asked (pleaded).

Sebastian stood with his half finished bowl of cereal and took the money from Blaine as he pulled it out of his wallet. His fingers squeezed around the money even when Sebastian's hand was clasped over his.

"You can pick the restaurant but don't go anywhere Rachel doesn't like," Blaine raised his eyebrows as Sebastian smiled—clearly he knew the other male far too well. "I mean it; I will shrink all your sweaters next laundry day." It was scary to him how domestic they all sounded sometimes.

He could afford to buy more sweaters, the threat not really the point of all this, but Sebastian merely smiled and squeezed his hand, snatching the money to put into his back pocket.

"Vous êtes mignon quand vous essayez de me contrôler." Sebastian hummed in response, grabbing Blaine's ass very purposefully before heading past the couch to get his coat out of the closet. Blaine didn't need to look at Rachel to know she was _fuming_ on the couch.

Blaine felt like he could probably set something on fire with the amount of heat radiating from his cheeks and managed to get out to Sebastian that he should use his car because he had the snow tires on it before the other male left.

He glanced down at his girlfriend, who looked incredibly pissed off. He had no idea what Sebastian had said in French but knew it wasn't anything good…or nice…or even tasteful, probably. Before he could open his mouth about asking her if she wanted anything, he went to grab her an icepack from the fridge. He sat down on the coffee table after wrapping the pack in a dishtowel and gently lifted her swollen ankle onto his lap. He frowned softly when she winced and rubbed her calf with his fingers as he settled the ice pack onto her.

"Ouch." She said, wincing and Blaine rubbed circles along her skin with his thumb.

"Sorry."

Rachel bit her lip and looked up at him, her eyes trailing over the blush that was still on his face. "Are you ever going to tell him to stop doing that?"

Blaine laughed and shook his head. "Rachel, it's Sebastian. Do you honestly think he's going to stop just because I ask him to? He'll probably end up doing it _more_."

Rachel gently tugged at the end of her skirt—which he still couldn't believe she was wearing in the middle of winter, knee high boots or not. "Well, unless you really like it and just…don't know how to tell me…" She trailed off.

Blaine looked up at her at that comment but she refused to meet his eyes—this had always been an issue for them (for Rachel) ever since they had started dating, even though Rachel barely mentioned it out loud—he could see the uncertainty in her eyes, the worry—the slight panic that Blaine might lean towards guys more than her. He hated to define himself as anything, but he guessed if he had to he'd say he was bisexual (even though Kurt had insisted at one point in time that that didn't really exist). But he couldn't explain himself any other way. He liked girls…but he was attracted to guys, like he was sure he'd always be attracted to Sebastian (even though he'd never admit that out loud in fear of hurting Rachel). He wanted to tell her that it didn't really matter who he was attracted to because he _was in love with her _but sometimes it took a while to convince her. He knew her insecurity got the best of her sometimes but this…this was something she shouldn't have had to worry about.

He got up and gently set her foot down on a pillow on the coffee table, balancing the ice pack on her ankle before taking a seat next to her on the couch. He easily laced his fingers along hers and squeezed until she looked up at him. Dark coffee brown eyes met his light, honey colored hazel ones and he gave her a gentle smile.

"Rachel, trust me when I say…that the only person that I want grabbing my ass, is you."

A smile broke out instantly on her face, making her giggle. Blaine smirked softly as she turned and buried her face into his shoulder, her body turning slightly as her arm wound around his waist, squeezing him tight. He turned and pulled her as close as he could while still keeping her leg up on the table, stroking her back as he pressed kisses into her hair. He breathed in the scent of her hair which smelled like peppermint and coffee—probably from them stopping for tea and coffee at Starbucks before rounding the corner to go shopping for family Christmas presents (well, more like for her fathers but…he was nitpicking).

Blaine loved that about her, wanted to nearly ask how she did it—how she ended up smelling like whatever season they were in. In the summer time she smelled like honeysuckles and sometimes oranges or strawberries (usually something floral, beautiful—it always made him want to bury his nose between her collar bone and neck and kiss), spring was mostly the same, but a few times when he had kissed the skin of her navel he picked up the scent of clean linen and cotton in waves. Fall always brought hints of warm vanilla sugar and winter had pomegranates and peppermint (sometimes coffee or caramel)—it felt like a funny thing to ask her about, she probably just changed the lotion and body wash she used based on the season. He wanted to tell her that it didn't really matter what scent she chose—because his favorite was when any of those seasonal perfumes were combined with his cologne, from her lying in his bed, or wrapping herself up in one of his shirts or sweatshirts, or from lying underneath his body after cumming together with heightened pulses, quickening breathes and fingers lacing.

"What if my ankle doesn't get better in time for the Christmas show?" Rachel whispered into the skin of his neck.

Blaine bit his lip and ran a hand through her hair. As much as Rachel didn't realize, she had a cycle that she went through when she was sick, hurt or upset—first the anger (which was almost always directed at Sebastian), emotional insecurity and then…oh God, tears. He hated this. As much as he had been there to go through it with her, he always felt helpless (_scared_) that what he was saying to try and help wasn't good enough, that holding her in his arms, tight against his chest wasn't enough to quell her crying or shaking or her doubts—that she'd get so upset with him for not saying the right thing.

"The Christmas show is late this season, right? Practice doesn't start till the middle of December. It's the beginning of month, I'm sure you'll be all healed up in time." He squeezed her gently, turning his head to press a kiss to her cheekbone.

She scoffed. "Yeah, watch, I'll be all healed up and then accidently flair it up again during a hard turn in practice or a high jump with Rick." Blaine rolled his eyes, not at her of course, but he fucking hated her dance partner Rick—his hands traveled far more over Rachel's body than he was comfortable with.

And while male theater performers with a background in ballet were usually gay, he knew from the damn smug look on Rick's face as he ran his hands over Rachel's waist and thighs during lifts informed Blaine that he was in fact straight. He was lucky he had some self-control when he went to watch Rachel's practices because sometimes Rick's fingers on her skin made Blaine twitch in his seat, his own fingers curling into fists on his lap.

"I'm sure _Macy_," That was Rachel's understudy, a tall and attractive blonde that was a little overeager and very confident in herself and her talent (Rachel and her had a lot in common but it would be Blaine's head if he ever said that). "Would be _thrilled_ to find out that I can't perform."

"Rachel, you're talking like you already know you won't be able to." He looked down at her as he felt a few frustrated tears plop off her dark lashes and onto his neck, her lower lip wobbling in a way that made something hard twist inside his chest.

"Hey," He said gently, tilting her chin so he could look at her face. He cupped her face and ran his thumb over her cheekbone, wiping away the tear track. "Nothing is set in stone, okay?" He rested his forehead against hers, smiling against her lips. "I'm sure your ankle will be fine. We'll ice it up, get the swelling down and check back in with the doctor. Don't stress yourself out," He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "And please don't cry." He whispered, squeezing her to his chest.

Blaine rubbed her back soothingly and looked across their apartment, his eyes falling on the large patio windows—snow was falling continuously, thick and large fluffs of white settling on the black metal railing and the covering on the balcony furniture. He smiled softly, a thought turning in his head as he glanced back down at his girlfriend, kissing her upper lip.

"I have an idea that might make you feel better."

Rachel raised her eyebrows and bit her lip, curious. "What did you have in mind?"

000

"This is ridiculous Blaine Anderson, I am _freezing_."

Blaine chuckled, pulling his beanie down over his cold ears. He took the covering off of one of the other cushioned chairs and took a seat next to her, spreading a very thick pleated blanket and wrapped it around them both. He had made sure to help her into thick clothes and her winter coat, pulling on two pairs of pants himself and a long thermal sweater before his pea coat. He leaned over and kissed her cold nose, smirking as a large snowflake fell on one of her eyelashes and set a thermos of hot chocolate down on the table across from them, pouring a small cup for them to share. He took a long sip, the liquid warming his chest before passing it over to her, kissing her shaking fingers before she took a sip as well.

"How is this supposed to make me feel better?" She asked, biting her lip.

Alright, so she was pouty but he knew how much Rachel loved the snow and romantic gestures, so he didn't take too much offence that he'd have to explain himself. "We're snuggling in the snow Rachel, basically depending on each other for heat." He grinned, making her giggle. He kissed her nose. "What's more romantic than that?"

"Snuggling in a very warm bed." She muttered, but her smile was genuine and so was the kiss that followed.

He closed his eyes as her lips touched his, his tongue sliding out of his mouth as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. He hummed softly—she tasted like milk chocolate and the tip of his tongue glided along the top of her teeth, sliding against the inside of her cheek. She shivered…but it wasn't from the cold and he felt a smile tug at the edges of his mouth as he inched closer to her, his chair skidding across the smooth pavement of the patio. His hand slid between her thighs, rubbing and inching her legs apart. He bit her lower lip, a shudder running down his spine at the soft moan that left her mouth.

"I think you're right," Blaine said softly, running his tongue over her upper lip. "It's freezing out here…maybe I should warm you up."

Rachel smiled against his lips, a soft nod of her head, her silky hair that stuck out of her red snow cap tickling the sides of his face. He ran his nose over hers and slid his hand up and under her coat, working his fingers past the many layers he had put on her.

"Too many layers." He grumbled, making her laugh as he finally worked his way into the thick haze of heat between her legs, his fingers dipping down between her lips. She moaned softly, her legs sliding further apart to accommodate his hand.

He shifted in his seat, leaning forward to slide her scarf aside so his lips found one of his favorite patches of skin. His tongue ran over a flurry of freckles along her neck before gently biting down. Her hips thrust forward as one of his finger worked its way inside her, his thumb brushing over her clit every now and then. He easily slid a second finger inside of her as his wrist twisted and thrust up and down with the roll of her hips, moans falling from her mouth and probably attracting some of their neighbors. He smirked at the thought and bit down on the skin of her collar bone; leaving behind little red marks of ownership that fucking Rick could see the next time he leaned close enough to lift her into a jump.

Her arm wound its way around his back, pulling him closer, like it helped anchor herself to him and thrust up into his administrations. One swipe of his thumb and the curling of his digits inside her caused her to cum hard and fast, her fingers winding into the hair sticking out of his beanie and tugging hard as her head threw back, snow littering and peppering her face like small kisses. He panted softly against the skin of her neck, his cock hard and throbbing against the fabric of his pants; his hand continued to move, his motions slowing as his fingers pulled out of her. He swiped her clit once with his forefinger, smirking as she let out a strangled sigh with the jerk of her hips. He pulled his hand out of her pants, re-covering her and bundling her up against the cold snow. She turned to look at him, her eyes opening to reveal the haze of lust and glaze over her eyes of pure pleasure circulating through her bloodstream, a throbbing warmth thrumming throughout her body. She tried to reach over and slide her hands in his pants but he shook his head, kissing the bridge of her nose.

He smirked and cupped her face with his other hand, stroking her pink blotched cheek with his thumb. "I like your eagerness but this was about you." He kissed her softly, running his nose over her upper lip as he pulled back. "I just want you to feel better."

Rachel giggled, the high from her orgasm obviously influencing her—she seemed happier though, better than she was before when she was worried about her ankle. They'd have to go inside soon, he needed to get the ice back on her…but he figured it'd be a bit much having an ice pack on her outside as it snowed.

"I feel a lot better." She grinned, kissing his lower lip and running her finger over his cheek where a snowflake had fallen. "Thank you."

She didn't have to thank him; he hated seeing her upset, it hurt him more than anything else. And it wasn't like she wouldn't do the same for him, if he was stressed or hurt or sick or upset—it's what people did for each other when they were in a relationship as far as he was concerned. Maybe not…orgasms in the snow following hot chocolate but it was good enough for Rachel so, that was all that really mattered to him.

He was about to ask her if she wanted more hot chocolate when a voice sounded from behind them.

"Voyeurism has never been one of my kinks…" Blaine's eyes widened as he recognized Sebastian's voice and jerked around in his chair to look at the tall male, leaning against the doorframe of the patio with to-go bags in his hands as he smiled slow and lewd at them. "but then again, I never thought exhibitionism was one of yours."

He didn't even have time to warn him before Rachel wailed the thermos of hot chocolate at his head, which luckily she missed by a landslide as it thumped against the wall near Sebastian's chest. Blaine hurriedly helped her back inside (before she started throwing the patio table or something), settling her onto the couch again as Sebastian mentioned something about threesomes while he gathered plates for their dinner to bring into the living room. Rachel muttered about how the other male was absolutely _deplorable_ and Blaine took their layers off and set them aside, rolling up the sleeves of his thermal as he very purposely sat between Sebastian and Rachel on the couch, forking Chinese food onto his plate.

Sebastian smiled at him, nudging his arm as he suggestively slid an egg roll into his mouth. Blaine's cheeks tinted and he shook his head, leaning over to kiss Rachel's cheek as she continued to mutter about Sebastian's vulgar language and lewd, suggestive mannerisms around the house (he was very glad she hadn't seen him take a bite out of that egg roll just a few moments ago) but smiled softly when she turned and kissed his cheek back, forking up some of her vegetarian Chinese to her mouth before taking the remote and flipping the channel to a movie playing—_Singing in the Rain_.

She may have spent the next hour criticizing Sebastian as he criticized the movie they had watched a million times over—but he knew she kind of enjoyed exchanging barbs with the other male and every so often she would giggle over something in the movie, or turn her head and smile at him before planting a kiss on the bridge of his nose.

Rachel was happier; not concerned, frustrated, upset or worried about her swollen ankle—which had a brand new ice pack on it—and that was all Blaine had been after.


End file.
